


Flightless Bird, American Boy

by technicolor_rocketships



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: GTA AU, Gang AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-10 04:55:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5571850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/technicolor_rocketships/pseuds/technicolor_rocketships
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being hired to kill another rival gang's member and a misunderstanding, Jonathan is inducted into Evan's gang. But what happens when one of Los Santos' biggest drug kingpins and an anonymous assassin fall in love?  Or worse, when the rival gang decides they want revenge for their murdered member, willing to go the hell and back?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Misunderstanding

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So, I'm not sure how long this fic will be, but please bear with me on updates. If you have any suggestions or anything, tell me in the comments or leave me a message on my tumblr! (soda-pop-rock). It's always nice to get feedback :D
> 
> I hope ye enjoy! <3

The concrete jungle that was Los Santos was lit to life by the white and blue beams of streetlights. Mixtures of blues and blacks colored the midnight sky, along with the occasional star that shone through the city’s light pollution. The dirty sidewalks littered with grime and garbage reminded Jonathan of a sleazy 1970s films, the ones filled with drug kingpins and crooked cops. Much like Los Santos was, a city mad with greed and substances, a city where positivity was nearly nonexistent. A perfect place for Jonathan and his line of work: assassination.

Jonathan quickly paced around the into a nearby alley, his sneakers hitting the pavement with little noise. He thanked the forces above for the nearly empty street that night. He reached into his hoodie’s pocket, fishing out his phone to look over his most recent text message from Luke, his literal partner in crime.

Luke - Sent 9:07 P.M.

They said the guy is gonna be near the entrance of Sandy Shores’ Docks exactly at 12:45. They said use whatever method you want. Don’t fuck this up, Jon. This is the biggest job we’ve been given AND it’s from the most powerful gang in LS.

Luke - Sent 9:08 

You fuck this up, they’ll have our heads blown off by midnight. 

Jonathan rolled his eyes as he pushed his phone back into his pocket. He stealthily moved towards the entrance of the gated area, The smell of the sea and lack of light gave Jonathan the perfect opportunity to reach back into his hoodie to retrieve his most crucial item, a hockey mask to disguise himself. Looking behind and around himself, Jonathan slowly began to pull out his weapon of choice: a pistol. It wasn’t long til Jonathan heard the sounds of approaching footsteps and the smell of a lit cigar. Ducking behind a darken corner of an alley, he waited for his target to appear.

Through the dim light of a lone streetlight, Jonathan saw a tall man appear clad in a grey suit. His dark, small curls framing his face, his brown skin shining in the streetlight. Jonathan watched as the man brought the thick cigar to his mouth, inhaled, and blow the smoke into the air. He felt his heart jump as the man turned his back towards Jonathan, answering his phone.

“Brian, I’m here.” the man spoke with an irritated voice. Jonathan readied himself, his heart practically booming in chest, his stomach flipping in anticipation and nervousness. A small pause fell on the man as he listened intently to the voice on the other end.

“I fuckin’ know, but I don’t see the ship with the supply on it. What do you want me to do? Magically make it appear?” the man mocked, oblivious to Jonathan closing in behind him. Jonathan was close enough to hear the other voice on the phone.

“I don’t fucking know, okay Marcel?” Brian replied in a heavy Irish accent, angry confusion easily detected in the voice’s words. 

“You should’ve sent Brock down here, I don’t even know what the ship looks like.” said Marcel, his voice taking on a more aggressive tone. 

“Listen to me, Marcel. You just gotta find the big ship, get the coke, and take off before Evan and his boys get there okay? Shit’ll go down. You’re out there alone and you know you can’t take on all of them.” Brian said, much more serious than angry. 

“Fine. See ya’ later, Brian.” Marcel said, tapping his phone to end the call. He took another puff of the cigar, letting the smoke exit his lungs with ease. It was then Jonathan took a sharp intake of breath and shot the back of Marcel’s head twice. The shots only echoing for a few seconds, easily mistakable. He watched as Marcel’s now lifeless body slumped over, the cigar falling from his hands. The bullet killed him the exact way Jonathan had planned: quickly and quietly. Jonathan took a shaky breath before turning to leave, thankful his job was done. He turned, going back to the alley to leave, quickly hiding his gun. 

He froze as he heard footsteps behind him. Jonathan quickly gripped his gun in his hand before turning around. He shouted in pain as he felt something hit his head. He fell back with ease, the throbbing pain in his head and his blackening vision not helping. “What the fu-” Jonathan cursed before giving in. 

Standing with his fists clenched, Nogla, clad in all black attire, stared down at Jonathan’s unconscious body sprawled on the ground. He turned to face Lui, who was running towards him. Lui removed his black beanie as he ran his hand through his hair in frustration. 

“Nogla you dumbass!” Lui shouted, looking over at Jonathan.

“What? He was obviously here to either steal our shit or kill us-”

“That was the guy Evan hired to take out Brian’s dude before we got here,” Lui nearly shouted, “why do you think there’s one of Brian’s guys dead over there?!” his voice dripping with frustration.

Nogla cursed to himself as he and Lui rushed to pick up Jonathan. The two carried him quickly to a black van, resting him on the backseat. “Well how the fuck was I suppose to know? You guys never tell me anything.” Nogla complained as he sat himself in the driver’s seat of the van. Lui followed, sitting in the passenger’s seat.

“Maybe try actually paying attention when we plan this out?” Lui spat back as he fished out his phone, “Now I have to tell Evan you almost killed the hired killer. You’re lucky if he doesn’t beat you once we get there.” With the phone's light, Nogla could clearly see the anger and doubt in Lui's facial expression. He bit his lip in worry while warming up the van.

“Oh c’mon, at least we got what we came to get.” Nogla replied, driving out of the docking station back to Evan’s apartment, Jonathan stirring slightly in the backseat of the van as his hockey mask loosened.


	2. The Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan and Jonathan finally meet, while rival gang leader Brian learns what happened to Marcel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long to update! There was complications with school and such. But I'm back! This will be updated as often as I can. Sorry I made you all wait. <3 
> 
> Otherwise, I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think! I always love reading comments. <3 Enjoy!

The bright shine of the streetlights poured into the van, block after block. Jonathan’s lower face was exposed from his slowly falling hockey mask. Lui rubbed at the bridge of his nose while he waited for his boss to pick up. Nogla drove with a worried expression, the heavy weight of his mistake finally hitting him. 

“Did you get what I asked for?” Evan asked, finally answering Lui’s call.

“Yeah,” Lui paused, staring coldly at Nogla, “but we had a problem.”

“You gotta be kidding me. How bad? Does it involve Brian?” Evan sighed, his tone filled with anger.

Lui bit his lip, unsure if it was done in frustration or fear, “Nogla knocked out the guy you paid to take care of Brian’s guy.”

The pause on the other end caused Lui to sit back farther in his seat, as if it’ll protect him from Evan’s anger. He fliched as he heard Evan curse quietly.

“Is he unconscious?”

Lui looked back to Jonathan’s sleeping body. “Yeah.”

“Get him here in one piece.”

“Y-yeah, we will.” Lui replied before ending the call, turning towards an equally stressed Nogla. 

The three drove in silence through the twists and turns of Los Santos, making their way to Vinewood Boulevard, where the gang’s hideout stood. Lui looked at the multiple pedestrians that filled the sidewalks, the colorful neon lights lining the street. His mind wandered, fearing for when they’d make it to the hideout. The tension filled the van, all while Jonathan slept soundly. 

It wasn’t long before the three parked in a near abandoned parking lot of a high class apartment building, it’s yellow and white lights of penthouses contrasting with the dark night sky. Nogla looked towards Lui as he opened his door. 

“You push ‘im towards me and then come on my side to help me carry him.” Nogla instructed. Lui nodded his head, muttering under his breath. 

The two worked quickly, not wanting to be stop. They already looked suspicious enough in all black clothing carrying a man who could pass as being half dead. The pale hockey mask Jonathan wore almost slipped due to the movement of Nogla and Lui carrying him, his arms wrapped around their shoulders. They finally caught their breath as the elevator lifted them to Evan’s floor. Tension filling the small space between the three. As the three made their way to Evan’s door, Jonathan started to stir in his sleep again. His head shaking, his mind coming back to him. 

“Fuck, hurry and get him in there before he causes a scene.” Lui harshly whispered. Once through the door, Nogla quickly threw Jonathan onto the nearest couch as Lui slammed the door. Quickly drawing his handgun, Nogla aimed at Jonathan. 

“Woah, woah, calm down,” Evan said, walking towards Nogla and setting his arms down, “give him a break. First you knock him out, now you’re trying to kill him?”

Evan stood before the two in his usual attire, a sleek red suit and black dress shoes. His black hair styled up, shining in the lighting of his expensive apartment. 

“He’s an assassin waking up with no idea where he is. Don’t you think he’ll wanna shoot first and ask question later?” Lui asked, keeping his hand locked on his own weapon. 

“We’re not amateurs, have some faith in us, Lui.” Evan laughed. He made his way over to Jonathan’s resting body. The mask now exposing his mouth. Evan chuckled, “So, this is the mysterious assassin wanted by every city in San Andreas. I must be incredibly lucky or he’s incredibly unlucky.”

Nogla shifted away from Evan, standing closer to Lui. The two waiting in anticipation for whatever Evan decided to do with them for nearly ruining the pick up. Lui stepped back as Evan leaned in closer to Jonathan. 

“You guys take care of the supply?”

“Yeah, we hid it in the compartment we made under the backseat. It’s all there.” Nogla replied, his voice deep.

A pause followed. Evan turned to face the two. His expression stern and serious. “Go put Jason Voorhees here in the interrogation room and wake him up. I’ll be there in ten.” Evan ordered as he walked towards his kitchen. 

The two quickly made their way to grab Jonathan and ready him, using rope to tie his hands in front and his ankles to the front legs of the chair he was sat in. They then removed all the weapons on Jonathan, taking his pistol and knife. The interrogation room consisted of a bare room, in it a narrow coffee table, a dim desk lamp, two large chairs, and a large two way mirror. 

Once they finished setting him up, Lui shook Jonathan. Nogla kept his handgun close as he watched Jonathan wake. Looking towards the two in confusion, Jonathan shook his head so his mask fell back into it’s original place. He then tried to break free of his restraints. 

“Where the fuck am I?! Who the fuck are you two?!” Jonathan shouted.

Nogla rapidly held down Jonathan as he struggled to break away. Lui assisted by pulling out his own handgun. Jonathan stopped suddenly, deciding it’d be easier to follow their orders than to lose his life. Jonathan felt a chill run down his spine as realization hit him. When he had a target, it was so easy to have the upper hand, to catch them off guard. Now, he was the target, the victim, and he had no plan of escape. 

“Well, glad to see you’re up.” Evan said, walking into the room with two glasses of vodka. Lui and Nogla looked at Evan in confusion. 

“Now listen, unless you want your life cut short here and now, I suggest you don’t try anything risky when these two leave. Believe, they’ll know.” Evan said as he looked at the two, waiting for them to leave. With Lui’s handgun still drawn, they exited. The clicking of various locks causing Jonathan to get a good look at Evan for once. His eyes wandered up and down Evan’s image, from his red suit to his golden skin. His dark eyes pulling Jonathan in.

“Go ahead, drink up. We may be in here a long time.” Evan said as he took a small sip of his glass, “or not.” Evan laughed as he looked at Jonathan’s tied hands.

“Who the hell are you and why am I here?” Jonathan questioned, anger in his hoarse voice.

Evan set his glass down, leaning back in his chair. He eyed Jonathan with amusement. “We actually have a couple things in common. We both have black hair, we both have jobs we’d rather not discuss, we’re both wanted statewide for crimes we’re both well known for.” Evan stated, his voice tone serious. 

“So how is it no one knows your real identity? The Masked Murderer? The Anonymous Assassin? Or, what do you go by? Isn’t it Delirious?”

Jonathan nodded, facing the ground. His memories blurry of the night he’d had. Jonathan could feel his heart’s near deafening beating. His face cold with sweat, chills running down his body at the realization of who sat across from him.

“You’re Vanoss, aren’t you? One of the most successful drug distributors in all of San Andreas.”

Jonathan looked up to see Evan take another sip of his drink. 

“You catch on pretty quick, I’ll give you that,” Evan answered, “almost as quick as that kill you did for us. Pretty impressive I might add.” 

Jonathan finally faced Evan, his ocean blue eyes staring back into Evan’s dark brown eyes. He couldn’t deny the fact he was attractive. The way his body fit perfectly in that red suit. But now, Jonathan needed to stand his ground, or at least make it out alive. Jonathan continued to stare as Evan opened his mouth to speak.

“Listen, I’ve heard about you and your work, You and that Luke guy do some pretty good work for each kill. Now that I have you actually here and not through some messages, I have a proposal.”

+++

Hurried footsteps ran down the stairs to the basement of an unknown home. A man with slightly curly hair caught his breath as he knocked hurriedly, awaiting for a response. Brian quickly opened the door, allowing the man into his personal bedroom. The only light in the room came from the sliding glass door that overlooked the city and a dim lamp. Brian rubbed his tired eyes before standing to meet the man.

“Brock, is Marcel back or no? It’s been nearly 3 fuckin’ hours and he hasn’t-”

“That’s why I came down here. I, uh, fuck.” Brock stammered, struggling to find the right words.

“What. Happened. To. Marcel.” Brian asked, his voice strained.

A pause fell on the two as Brain glared at Brock. Without hesitation, Brian moved closer, reaching into his leather jacket to pull out his weapon before Brock finally spoke up.

“Marcel’s dead. The shipyard worker we paid to let Marcel in found his body. He’s gone.”

Tension and silence filled the room. Brian’s facial expression changed from intimidation to pure shock. The man he’d started this gang with, the man he’d counted as family, the only man who was willing to lay down everything on the line for him, gone. 

“Fuck!” Brian yelled loudly, kicking the nearby lamp down in anger. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he continued, hot tears running down his face, his eyes stinging. Brock stood back, not wanting to cause Brian more anger. With a loud thud, Brian sat down on his bed, holding his head in his hands as he wept. Sobs echoing around the room.

“I’m sorry…” Brock said, interrupting. Brian wiped his eyes, sniffling. He looked towards the city, his red eyes studying his and Brock’s reflection. “That makes two of my best friends they’ve killed. Two in just 3 months.”

Brock stepped closer to Brian, sitting down on the very edge of the large bed. With a bit of hesitation, his began to rub Brian’s back as a sign of comfort. Brian leaned into the touch, his sniffling becoming louder. 

“I’m gonna make those fuckers pay if it’s the last thing I do. I don’t want you or Arlan to be next. I want two of those fuckers dead as soon as possible.”

Brock looked out towards the city, his stomach turning anxiously, any of them could be dead any second, it was all now just a matter of who would be willing to shoot first. With that thought in his mind, Brock continued to comfort Brian as he sobbed.


	3. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonathan finally returns to Luke after the deal with Evan, while Brian struggles to find a way to get revenge on Evan and Jonathan for the death of Marcel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the wait, I've had a bit of a writer's block and I'm trying to get back in the swing of things. That's also the explanation for the shortness of this chapter. The next one will be longer for sure, promise! <3
> 
> As always, please let me know what you think! I love reading feedback from you guys! <3 :D

The rundown apartment building stood amongst the busy street life below. The beige and fading blue color of the building shined in the soft hues of the dawn. The city seemed to be up before the sun itself, the streets filled with those who had the misfortune of driving to work so early, the groggy walk of the people on the sidewalks. A tall man look out from his own apartment a few floors up, his face cringing as he picked his phone back up.

“Fuckin’ Jon, pick up,” the man cursed, attempting to call Jonathan. He ran his hand through his brown hair.

He cursed as he heard Jonathan’s voice mail. Without hesitation, the man quickly walked back to sit on his bed, still unmade.

“Listen, Jon. You better make back by 7 or I’m gonna go out looking for you. Whatever the fuck happened, if the job went to shit or you’re being chased down, you need to get back here and so we can figure out what we’re gonna do…” the man paused as he regained his composure, “if you’re still alive.”

The man ended the call as he looked out his window once more. Jonathan still had 2 hours left. 

+++

The man awoke to a rushed knock at his door. He ran to his door, his vision still adjusting to the light in his apartment. With quick work, the man opened the door to see Jonathan, his blue hoodie dirtied from the night before, removing his mask as he walked past the man. 

“Holy shit, Jonathan.” the man said, peeking out the door to make sure Jonathan wasn’t followed before locking the it. He turned around to see Jonathan lazily sitting on his dark red couch, his head laying back, his face finally freed from his mask. Jonathan’s short black hair quickly became messy, his eyes closed shut. 

Silence filled the apartment before Jonathan took a deep breath, “Luke,” he said, leaning back up against the couch. “I gotta tell you something about last night.”

Luke took a seat on the couch, cringing as Jonathan tried to move, noticing how sore Jonathan was. Turning to face him, Luke rubbed his eyes, trying to adjust his vision. 

“So, last night I took care of the guy, but one of Vanoss’ guys thought I was someone else and took me back to Vanoss. They kinda…” Jonathan trailed off, pointing to a purple bruise forming on the side of his face. Luke bit his lip, nervous of what Jonathan had to say.

“So then after I wake up, I see Vanoss and he starts talking to me about how we work and shit like that. Said he was impressed. He basically held me in his weird ass interrogation room until we worked out a deal.”  
“Well, what the hell was it?” Luke asked, now more alert. His mind raced with the idea of them being chased, gangs from every part of Los Santos out to see them bleed.

“We just act as their own hitmen and security for a while. They have some upcoming heists they need help with. Even going as far as to do a job on the largest bank in Los Santos and the military base up in Sandy Shores.” Jonathan explained, tired from his night of talking with Evan. Flashbacks of them sitting there for nearly 5 hours, exchanging deals back and forth, discussions of payment, anything and everything.

“What did you tell him?”

“I said we’d do it for a 40% cut of what they get and unlimited access to whatever weapons they have.” Jonathan replied, turning over to settle into a comfortable position. Luke felt his spine tingle, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. 

“Are you fucking serious?! He just let you go like that?!” Luke asked, sitting up straighter. 

“Basically, said his old guy was offed by the guy I killed last night. I think his name was Sark? Oh, you know Vanoss’ real name is Evan?” Jonathan asked, getting sleepier.

Luke groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, “you sure you know what you’re doing? I mean, when do we even start?”

Jonathan lazily lifted his head, his eyelids already heavy from his lack of sleep. “He said to meet him at his place tonight at 10. We’re all gonna talk about his latest job on the bank heist. I know where his place is at.” Jonathan said, letting his head fall back on the couch, “can I sleep now? I’ve been up for almost 40 hours.”

Luke groaned, rising from his seat to his room. He stopped halfway, turning back at Jonathan’s relaxed figure, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath he took. “Jon, I hope you know what you got us into.” Luke whispered to himself before turning back to his room, hoping to catch a few more hours of sleep.

+++

Brian emerged from his room to the large house. His red eyes and messy hair surprised Brock, who was standing in the large kitchen with a shorter tanned man. Brian passed by the two without a second glance. 

“You alright, Brian? Marcel come back with that asshole’s coke?” the man asked, Brock biting his lip, nervous for Brian’s answer.

Brian closed the fridge door, turning to stare into the man’s brown eyes. The man backed up two steps, fearful. Brain quickly walked over to the other man, close enough to hear his heart beating.

“You know what, Arlan? Maybe go look for him, I’ll give you a hint, try and find him in a puddle of blood.”

Arlan held his breath. “I-I don’t g-”

“Marcel’s fucking dead. Gone. Somewhere on a cold metal table waiting to be buried. He died because Vanoss is a pussy and paid some no name to kill him. You wanna be next?! You want Brock to be next?!” Brian shouted, his hair falling in front of his eyes. Brock inhale deeply as he felt Arlan shuffle closer to him. 

“Now it’s time to stop fuckin’ around. I want Vanoss dead. I don’t care how, I want it now. Brock,” Brian said, sternly looking towards Brock. He nodded, awaiting Brian’s request.

“I want you to figure out Vanoss’ plans. New shipments, jobs, anything. The next step he takes, I want us to be there, ready to fucking obliterate him. Arlan.”

“Yes.” Arlan answered, his voice cracking slightly.

“I need you to talk to our suppliers, ask them when they’re gonna send in the packages. The faster we get that out of the way, the faster we are to sending that fucker back to hell.”

Arlan quickly left, taking Brian’s request as a chance to finally leave the room, it’s heavy tension nearly choking him. Brock turned, watching as Brian returned to the fridge. The way Brian’s strong shoulders hung lowly, his slow walk, the occasional sniffle. 

Brock took a deep breath, “I know we work for you and everything, but don’t let your emotions control you, we can’t risk it at this point” he said as he left the kitchen, leaving Brian alone. 

With the quick swipe of his right hand, Brian wiped his tears, the stinging in his eyes causing him to close them. “What the hell do you mean by that-”

Brian turned to be greeted to the empty kitchen, the warm glow of the morning sun splashing through the windows.


	4. The Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions and alliances are made when Evan lets his gang and his two newest members, Jonathan and Luke, know his plan to rob one of the biggest banks in Los Santos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the latest chapter! This was really fun to write. Good news, I finally have the rest of the story planned out! Bad news, I may only be updating once every week-ish? After each chapter I'll take a two day break before writing the next. Please bear with me with updates <3
> 
> I hope you enjoy! Feel free to leave any feedback you have, I love reading what you guys have to say. :) <3

The near blinding lights of the building’s penthouses caused Jonathan’s stomach to turn, remembering the conversation between him and Evan. The way Evan’s dark hair shined against the lights of the interrogation room, the way Evan carefully chose his words, each syllable ringing in Jonathan’s ears. The way Evan’s dark eyes pulled him in, both excited and disturbed him. Evan’s actions screamed experience and confidence, but his eyes told Jonathan a tale of loneliness and doubt.

He was quickly snapped out of his thoughts by Luke parking. 

“Listen, Jon. I know you said ya’ll talked, but don’t think for a second I won’t hesitate to defend us. It’s not everyday you meet a infamous drug lord ready to take us under his wing like nothing.” Luke said, hiding a small revolver in his chest holster. He made quick work to zip up his hoodie before Jonathan spoke.

“If you bring that in, it’ll make things ten times worse. Leave it, we’re fine.” Jonathan replied, Luke pausing in his actions. With a quiet groan, Luke removed the gun and it’s holster. 

The two made their entrance fast and quiet. Their heads bowed, making eye contact with nobody as they waited for their elevator. Once inside, Jonathan hastily removed his mask from his hoodie’s jacket and wore it. 

“Oh, so I can’t bring a gun to protect us but you can bring your mask?” Luke questioned, a sly smirk plastered on his face.

“Shut up.” Jonathan laughed, the nervousness of the two fading for a while as they rode their elevator up. It took only a few more minutes for the two to find their way to Evan’s penthouse. Muffled voices on the other side of the door caused Luke to tense for a moment, muscle memory causing him to reach for an imaginary weapon.

“Luke, calm the fuck down.” Jonathan whispered before knocking. All noise on the other side died within an instant. Gentle footsteps and the clicking of a lock gained Jonathan and Luke entrance to the penthouse. Before them stood a man in a black suit, his eyes looking the two up and down. Adjusting his glasses, the man stepped aside to let them in. Luke bit the inside of his cheek, not use to the feeling of being on edge. It was him who had the control, the hunter, never the hunted. 

A taller man in a white and black suit met with the other man. “Craig,” the man in the white suit said, “these the guys?”  
“Yeah, Evan said they’d be here.” Craig replied, walking away from the pair to a nearby hallway. The man in the white suit walked in the opposite direction, towards the mini bar to pour himself a drink. 

“Tyler, he said to bring ‘em in!” Craig shouted, his voice seeming to come from below the three. Tyler quickly cursed, nearly chugging his amber drink before motioning for the pair to follow. Their shoes clicked with each step on the hardwood floor, the hallway’s echoes ominous. Only a few staircases down, the three were greeted to a near steel door, it’s metal shining under the harsh lighting. 

The large room contained a large map of Los Santos, a couple of blueprints of a building taped to a wall, a rack containing any weapon imaginable, and a rather large leather couch and matching chairs. Evan turned around to see the pair, quickly breaking into a smile. Evan was dressed in a dark suit, his red tie standing out. 

“Well, I’m even more impressed you two actually showed up. I had Nogla and Lui on standby to go get you guys.” Evan chuckled before turning back to the large map, scribbling out a few notes on the side. “Tyler, go get those two. We’re ready to start. Don’t try to sneak in scotch either ” Evan said, breaking the short silence in the room. With a quick sigh, Tyler left the four alone. Luke and Jonathan took their seats on a nearby loveseat, adding as much distance as they could between themselves and Evan’s gang. 

Craig watched the door, his hands buried in his pockets. He chuckled as he saw Nogla’s expression, recognizing Jonathan. The room’s tension was nearly unbearable. Evan smirked, watching as his friends took their seats.

“So, Nogla and Lui got the shipment. From this point on, we can focus on this,” Evan said, moving aside to show the blueprint, various notes in red written around it. Luke furrowed his brow in confusion.

“First Bank of Los Santos. Mayor of this piece of shit town has spent more money than he can sacrifice to catch us. I say, since we’re not in prison and still free, why don’t we go get that money? It’s only a small sum of,” Evan paused, scrolling through his phone for a few seconds, “35 million.”

Luke’s face dropped, “holy fuck.”

Evan turned, facing the pair. “Holy fuck is right. I mean, they basically wasted it. Why don’t we put that money to good use?” Evan paused, walking towards the pair. All eyes followed Evan’s flowing movement, intimidation strong in his presence. 

“You must be Luke. Delirious told me about you, said you’re a gun nut. Del here says you practically live to shot,” Evan said, reaching out for Luke’s hand, “so you don’t mind helping us, right? I already told my guys you are, so…”

Luke paused, looking straight into Evan’s dark eyes. A tingle ran up and down his spine before he reluctantly grabbed Evan’s hand, their handshake slow paced. “I don’t mind as long as I get to pick what we take and don’t take.”

“Fair enough,” Evan walked in front of Jonathan, a smile breaking his dominant role. “Sorry about that,” he said, pointing to the now prominent bruise on the side of his face, “Nogla can be pretty aggressive when confused.” 

From the other side of the room, Nogla lowered his head, Lui desperately trying to hold back laughter. Jonathan mumbled an acceptance to Evan’s apology for Nogla before watching him walk away.

Once back in front of the blueprints, Evan quickly pointed to a small section of the bank’s roof, “Craig, you got the knock-out gas from Lester, right?”

“Yeah,” Craig replied, sitting up straighter, “he was a dick about it, but I got it.”

“Good. Tyler, you’re gonna work with Luke over there and take out any cops in the way. Be on the lookout for any sneak tactics.”

Tyler nodded, shooting a stern look Luke’s way. Luke reverted back to his habit, chewing the inside of his cheek, eager for Evan to continue. He watched as Evan turned to the blueprints, methodically looking over his own notes. With a red marker, he quickly scribbled out a new note. 

“Nogla’s gonna drive the van this time, Lui. You’ll keep watch inside the bank, shouldn’t be that many people inside.” 

Lui groaned quietly, upset with the new change. “Whose job is it to take the money then?”

“Me and Delirious. I haven’t gone on any heists with you guys in a while. Think it’s time for a change, eh?” Evan turned around, varying expressions of surprise staring back at him. He smirked, “alright, now that we have our roles in order, here’s how it’s gonna go down.”

Evan grabbed his red marker, drawing an arrow to the bank’s roof. “Craig is gonna use some knock-out gas Lester smuggled in for me from a while back in the bank’s vents. Should take, eh, maybe about 2 minutes tops.”

He then walked to the other side of the blue prints to a picture of a janitorial van. “Once everyone’s asleep, Nogla will drive about a few buildings down from the bank and park. Since it’s a janitor's van, I need all of us to wear navy blue jumpsuits to at least make us look the part,” he paused, “think you can get some by tomorrow morning, Nogla?”

Nogla nodded, watching as Evan continued.

“Tyler, Luke, you two will station yourselves across the street on top of this restaurant.” he said, pointing to a picture of a high class Italian restaurant, “like I said, be our eyes. Take out any and all cops who get in the way, but stay low. They don’t try to get in, don’t shoot.” 

“C’mon Evan, you’re talking to me like I’m a fuckin’ newbie” Tyler joked, shooting Luke a smirk. Luke glared back at Tyler, his eyes practically burning into the other.

“Yeah, well we have new members who aren’t as loud or cocky as you.” Evan joked. Tyler’s laugh slowly died as he noticed Luke’s glare. Tyler furrowed his brow, rolling his eyes before turning back to Evan. 

“Once Craig shuts the gas off, Lui, Delirious, and I will go in. Lui will keep watch from the inside while we go in the back and gather what we can,” he said, pausing to mark an X on the map of the street the bank was located, “after, and hopefully with no cops, Nogla will drive to up the block to pick up Craig, Tyler, and Luke.”

A pause fell on the room, Evan’s mind still processing his plan, “once Lui tells us it’s clear, Nogla will drive back to the original spot, pick us up, and after a bit of mindless driving, come back here. I want to put this in action around 5 p.m. tomorrow, is that good?”

The rest nodded. Some voicing their approval while others quickly filed out of the planning room. 

“Jon, let’s go. I’m already tired of this place.” Luke grunted, turning towards the door. Jonathan followed behind before he heard his name. 

“Hope the guys didn’t scare you guys too much,” Evan laughed, walking closer to Jonathan. The room was nearly silent enough to hear their heartbeats. Jonathan cleared his throat before replying.

“Nah, they seem like a good gang to work with. I don’t think that Tyler guy wants to work with Luke though-”

“Tyler’s moods go from ‘you’re the best’ to ‘I’m gonna kill you’, in 3 seconds flat. Tell Luke he doesn’t mean it.” Evan replied, “Can I ask a question?”

Jonathan tensed up, his heart racing, nearly deafening in his ears. “Yeah, what?”

“What’s up with the mask?” Evan asked, relaxing his posture. 

“It’s just something I wear to hide my face during jobs. Showing my face is too obvious of a clue. Why wouldn’t I wear one?” Jonathan replied, looking into the other’s eyes. Evan’s dark eyes twinkling under the room’s lighting. 

“I guess that’s a good enough reason, but why here when it’s just all of us? Or just me? Isn’t it annoying wearing that nearly 24/7?” Evan questioned, watching as Jonathan’s blue eyes travelled back down to stare at the ground. 

“It’s just an easier option for me-” Jonathan answered before being interrupted by heavy footsteps. It wasn’t long until Luke stood in the doorway of the room, obviously annoyed.

“Jon, let’s go.” he said, nearly shouting each syllable.

Evan sighed quietly before stepping away from Jonathan, “be back here by 4. No exceptions.” he said, breaking back into his dominant role. Jonathan nodded before following Luke. 

Standing alone, Evan bit his lip, running his hand through his raven hair. Thoughts raced through his mind. Thoughts of Brian and his gang, thoughts of Sark’s cold body shot dead by Brian’s own hitman, Marcel. Thoughts of how he could have easily prevented Sark’s death. Thoughts of Jonathan.

“God damn it, don’t get too close Evan.” he muttered under his breath as he exited the room for the night. His mind racing with worries for tomorrow’s job.


	5. The Counter Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian rounds up Brock and Arlan to plan their attack on Vanoss' gang. The absence of Marcel finally begins to take it's toll on Brian's thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I'm awful at keeping this story up to date as much as I'd want to. School work and personal family issues have caused me to take a longer break than expected. 3 Please, feel free to ask when the next chapter will be up via private message or comments. I'll be happy to tell you <3
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The outskirts of Los Santos lay vast and wide, it’s sandy ground and little to no plantlife gave it an even more sense of nothingness than the city. The desert only had a few houses scattered around, the nearest sign of civilization being nearly 75 miles away. Inside a faded blue and white house was a plan for revenge, with the shell of a broken man intent on murder. 

Brian stood near the kitchen counter, trading in his usual attire of expensive suits for a simple white t-shirt and grey sweatpants. With a glass of the strongest vodka he could find in his hand and his phone in the other, Brian slowly made his way the house’s livingroom. Spacious yet bare, Brian was quickly greeted by Arlan and Brock. Brock cringed at the strong scent of alcohol on Brian, the smell assaulting his nose.

“What’d ya find?” Brian asked, breaking the pause between the three. His slurred speech and Irish accent combined caused Brock and Brian to strain their hearing. 

“Uh, our suppliers said they can ship and deliver the packages for us if we give them a 10% cut.” Arlan said, his voice shaky.

“What’d you say?”

“I, uh, told them we’d give them their cut.” he answered, his eyes staring at the ground.

“If it was anything over 30% I would be throwing you out the window,” Brian stated, his voice monotone as he took a swing of his drink. He eyed Brock, the way his calm demeanor set the mood for these types of plans. He eyed the empty seat next to him, the very one that would be Marcel’s. He could smell the cigar Marcel would smoke during these meetings, he could hear Marcel’s words as he droned on about locations and plans, he could even smell the expansive cologne Marcel would wear. 

“You okay?” Brock asked, leaning against the nearest wall. A hint of worry fell on his face. He watched as Brian lifted his eyes to see him. Brian’s eyes were now a dull grey, dark bags from god knows how many sleepless nights lay under them. The shell of one of the most powerful men Brock has worked with stared back at him.

“Of course I’m okay. Nothing’s fucking wrong.” Brian spat at Brock, “tell me, what do you got on Vanoss and his little shitheads?”

With hesitation in his movements, Brock stood next to Arlan, “all I’ve been able to dig up is they got a new member, some guy who never shows his face or name. 100% off the grid.”

“He’s working with Vanoss for a huge cut from their next jobs. We found out they're gonna be working at the First Bank of Los Santos tomorrow. No idea what time or what strategy.” Arlan added in, clasping his hands together in front of him. 

He both feared and worried for Brian. Being the newest and youngest member, Arlan was intimidated by the older man. Yet, he couldn’t help but to worry for him, worry about his excessive drinking that grew with each day Marcel had been dead. Arlan could still remember the day he’d met Brian, the same day he had arrived to America with nothing but a sack of clothes and a crumpled 20 dollar bill. The way Brian had offered his home as shelter once discovering him on a lone subway platform. The way he and Marcel had actually cared enough to listen to his story of his struggle. Even if it meant he’d have to illegally gain money, Arlan would do it as a thank you to Brian. 

With a pinch to the bridge of his nose, Brian spoke again, “ah fuck. I guess we can stay low at the restaurant down the street’s roof until we see one of those fuckers,” he paused, taking another swing of his drink, “what do you think, Marcel-”

Silence soon filled the room. The tension nearly choking the other two. Arlan bit his lip in worry, watching as Brian’s eyes widened in realization. Brock turned to see Brian lay his head low, standing up. They both shot their heads up once they heard a small chuckle escape from Brian. A chuckle that quickly turned into howling laughter. 

“Yeah! Let’s go ask Marcel guys! He’ll know exactly what to do! He always does the talking for these plans and shit!” Brian yelled, his bloodshot eyes looking into the two. His accent heavier than usual as he continued to laugh. Arlan jumped at the sound of glass shattering. The remains of Brian’s glass and the burning alcohol now spreading across the floor. 

“Fucking Marcel always knew what to do. But guess who Vanoss decided needed to die in my fuckin’ place, huh?” Brian half shouted, “That should have been me that night dying. That should’ve been me face down in my own blood with a bullet wound to my fuckin’ skull. Not Marcel.” Brian sobbed, burying his face in his cold hands. 

The two exchanged sympathetic looks, Arlan running a hand through his thick black hair. They stood, listening to the sobs of Brian. The emotion of mourning and grief filling the room. It’s there they continued to stand as the man they once knew lost himself. It was there Brock realized not only did Marcel die, but so did Brian. 

“Fuck it,” Brian finally spoke, “we’re gonna drive out at that cafe a couple stores down from the bank and wait.”

Arlan jumped as Brian looked him dead in the eye, “Arlan, I need you to pack a quick and easy to put together gun in a normal briefcase. Just in case, bring your own pistol. Got it?”

“Yeah, got it.” Arlan answered shyly. His voice soft, only audible to Brian.

“Brock, I need you to drive tomorrow. Marcel always trusted you with getting us out of trouble.” Brian said, now standing.

“You two be on the lookout for either Vanoss or that new guy. I don’t care about what money they’re taking or what they’re trying to haul. I want those two dead and buried as quick as fuckin’ possible.” Brian told the two, looking straight through the two. His tired eyes and worn body turned away from them.

Brock only nodded, the pains of an oncoming headache annoying him. He felt a shiver run down his spine as he watched Brian walk back to his own room. Just before disappearing from their sight, he yelled out to them, “can’t say we’ll make it back. Marcel sure as hell didn’t.”


End file.
